Waiting Read Online Xavier Neal

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
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Waiting.
As in wey-ting.
As in a verb.
As in a synonym for anticipating.
As in the very thing I didn’t realize I was doing for a man ten years younger than me…

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Feel free to follow the playlist on Spotify to find more songs I felt related to the novel.

1. Higher Education – Michael Ray, featuring Kid Rock, Lee Brice, Billy Gibbons, and Tim Montana (Country)

2. Exposure – Shelley FKA DRAM (R&B)

3. Today, Tomorrow, And Forever – Elvis featuring Ann-Margret and The Jordanaires (Musical/Slow Rock)

4. One Time Blues – Blind Blake (Blues/Ragtime)

5. Post Malone - I Like You (A Happier Song) w. Doja Cat (Rap)

6. Dreamer – Dermot Kennedy (Irish Folk)

7. Pretty Brown Eyes – Cody Simpson (Pop)

8. Breakeven – The Script (Alternative Rock)

9. Locked out of Heaven – Bruno Mars (R&B)

10. Eleven:11 – Pell (Rap)

More songs: https://spoti.fi/3zYY8yG

Chapter 1

Harper

I shouldn’t be at this restaurant.

I mean there’s not like a warrant out for my arrest and being here is gonna get me locked up.

No, I shouldn’t be here of all places because this was one of “our spots”.

One we went to together.

Meeting someone here for a date – especially when I know he only comes here with colleagues – almost feels kind of shitty.

Okay.

Fuck, fine.

Really shitty.

But I wanted somewhere familiar and comfortable – the good crabcakes are just a bonus.

I wanted something – anything – to make what I’m doing feel less…fucking awkward.

Yes.

That’s it.

Less. Fucking. Awkward.

Because being thirty-five, divorced, and meeting someone from a matchmaking service is fucking awkward.

A dating app?

Totally “normal”.

I know a shit ton of people who swear by – and fuck by – them.

Me?

Not so much.

After ten or fifteen attempts that started off by me saying “you don’t look much like your picture” and finished with me pleading “please don’t let me end up the inspiration for a Criminal Minds’ case”, it seemed like the best thing I could do for myself was invest in myself.

And just to be clear that was a selfcare affirmation imposed upon me by my best friend, Natalie – or Nat – Postoak, who swears I have to do more for me than get a pedicure once a month.

She is also how I was led to Carly Coleman, a well renowned matchmaker.

I went into the whole situation thinking – and singing – Mulan, the animated edition, yet it was, thankfully, nothing like that. No lucky crickets. No need to doodle notes on my forearm. Definitely no large, intimidating plump woman to tell me I’m too skinny or not in good shape for popping out babies that I don’t necessarily know that I want. Instead, there were lots of questions – some predictable, some not –, lots of conversations – some light, some surprisingly serious –, and even a face-to-face meeting that eased my woes about spending so much money on something that I swear to God should be natural.

Dating really should be natural.

Flirting really should be natural.

Fucking, for shits sake, really should be natural – even a random one-night stand – and evidently, it is for everyone who is not me including my ex-husband who has gotten engaged and unengaged twice over the past two years.

No shade.

Seriously.

None.

We’re much better best friends than we were people who saw each other naked twice a week or so. We accept that. We got to a point where we both understood and acted upon it. This weirded out all of the other couples we associated with during that time in our lives because we were civil in our splitting versus the shit they like to watch on shitty television. They wanted and expected over the top drama. Us fighting for time with them. Demanding they pick sides. None of that shit happened and truth be told, I don’t see any of those people anymore. Fact of the matter is…our breakup was very simple. We were two people with different priorities that were ready to move forward with their lives.

Him onto a loan lending secretary – who he proposed to – …a scuba instructor…an environmental lawyer…and the most recent one worth noting – which was the second one he proposed to – a park ranger. He makes up and breaks up so frequently that unless I physically meet her, she doesn’t even register as a real person. And while he’s out there, busy dating half the state, I…simply…lie in bed most nights that I’m not on call wondering am I too picky?

Don’t I deserve to be picky?

Hell, I’ve made it this far in life – in a lot of ways on my own – shouldn’t I get to be a bit choosier than committing to the first dude who mentions wanting to put another ring on my finger?

For fucks sake, I don’t even know if I want another ring on my toffee-skinned finger.

What I do know is that this restaurant is like a safe haven in some ways and good crabcakes are a comfort food I haven’t had in far too long.

“And there is a lovely face I have absolutely missed,” Tate O’Clery, my old favorite waiter, warmly greets upon his arrival at my table.


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